People fall in love in mysterious ways
by Thalassina
Summary: Tumblr prompt: "You're my soulmate!" Guess what! It's another Soulmate AU! Peraltiago.


**I'm A Writing Dreamer gave me a prompt on Tumblr (you can find her under astrangetypeofchemistry) and I finally finished writing this.**

 **Title from Ed Sheeran's _Thinking Out Loud_.**

 **(Prompt was: "You're my soulmate?!")**

* * *

Amy only ever agreed to dating a guy when she was certain that he could be her soulmate.

She just figured it would only end in heartbreak any time she started something with someone she kind of knew couldn't be her soulmate. It'd be a lot of work for nothing. (Her friend Kylie always told her she was stupid for not casting all those thoughts about soulmates aside to just have a good time. But Kylie also did not believe in the whole concept of soulmates.)

There had been three times where she'd been so close to someone that she'd talked to them in her soulmate language (or SML, for short). And each time they didn't understand a word.

The thing with soulmates was that every pair has their own language that no one else can understand. Only their respective speakers can understand and translate it. You might think it made it as easy to find your soulmate as it was in the fictional stories where soulmates had a certain physical match, like a certain mark on their body, that they could, for example, post online and wait until the other finds it. But your soulmate language was personal. Talking to random people in it was like exposing your raw soul to the world. You could just as well run around Times Square naked. That's why Amy was so reluctant to date someone she didn't want to open her soul for. If she didn't think it was worth the shot, she didn't dwell on it.

Needless to say, Amy's not been in many relationships. There was Andrew in high school, back when she thought the guy running against her for valedictorian would be right for her because he got good grades just like her, before she found out about his learning technique: drugs. (There was one good thing she took from this, though: Andrew probably was the reason she wanted to be a cop.)

Then there was David when she was in college. He was always polite, listened to her rants about that one professor's messy handwriting on the blackboard, and sorted the clothes in his wardrobe by their exact shade of color. But it was Andrew all over again referring their compatibility, or rather lack thereof.

When she met Teddy, she was so certain to have found her real soulmate. He was perfect for her in so many ways. He fitted her very perception of soulmates. But as it turned out, it was far from perfect.

The first time she considered rethinking her soulmate perception was when she came upon the crushing realization that she might have a tiny crush on Jake Peralta. Only a tiny one, really. Nothing to dwell on.

Only that it lingered. Her heart and brain were wrestling with each other, trying and failing to forget about Jake and get back to Teddy. He was supposed to be her soulmate. It just _made sense_. Her "feelings" for Jake didn't fit into her plans. It was against her own rules. _Do not think about someone who does not fit your soulmate criteria_. And how was it even possible to like someone you're not even destined to be with? Wasn't the whole point of soulmates to find the other half of your soul? The one who will complete you? Why would the heart get sidetracked – wasn't that just cruel?

But then she realized that all the guys she ever dated (read: collectively three) and thought to be The One had turned out to be faux pas (some more than others). She found that maybe her personal view on the Perfect Match wasn't as realistic as she always thought. Something about it didn't add up. But she couldn't tell what it was.

This really bummed her out. Maybe, she figured some late night over a bottle of wine or two, maybe there was no soulmate for her out there. No perfect match. It happened – she'd seen documentaries about people whose soulmates probably died young or even lived in a different century. She'd read about theories that for some people there was no perfect match at all. Or they lived on different sides of the world and never met. She imagined being one of those cases. What would she do? _Sulk for the rest of my life_ , six-glasses-of-wine-Amy suggested. Groggy Amy the next morning however pondered friendship. Friends could be soulmates too. It wouldn't be as wholesome but it would do. After all, soulmates were inevitably always best friends in a way. Jake was her best friend. A different kind of soulmate. Maybe what she mistook as romantic feelings were just soulmate feelings in terms of friendship.

She tried to convince herself that this must be it.

However, some part of her still wouldn't believe that.

* * *

Amy decided to plunge into the cold water one night and asked Teddy about his day – but in her soulmate language. And like she'd already feared, he just stared at her, clueless. That settled it for her. They broke up the same night.

She decided to rethink her criteria. It seemed the way she selected her possible matches didn't work out. Only that it was harder than she'd thought it'd be. Her whole life Amy's had a clear image of what she wanted. Giving that up now turned out to be a real struggle. What was probably even worse was that her new criteria were simply attributes of Jake Peralta, her best friend and partner against crime. Her more-than-a-friend, regardless of how much she tried to persuade herself otherwise. She had to get over that silly crush of hers.

* * *

She realized her feelings didn't go away.

She pondered the meaning of that.

She feared the worst.

And for the first time in her life she absolutely didn't know what to do.

* * *

They've been on this stakeout for three days straight now.

Charles' stock of weird food started to smell stronger than before, even though stored in the depths of the old portable fridge he brought. Jake has made it a habit to deliberately step around it in a wide circle. He refused to sleep near that thing so he'd dragged his air mat into the other corner of the room, as far away as possible, which happened to be near the window through which they were observing the building across the street. If this operation went well, they could finally get the proof they needed to put away a small group of up and coming wannabe-terrorists.

Until now though, it had been pretty uneventful, and that wasn't helping their work dynamic. Charles and Jake kept quarreling over Charles' eating habits and Amy felt like a kindergarten teacher, the way she had to get little Jake and Charles to act professional. They were on a goddamn stakeout, for crying out loud, and an important one too. Although the least boring thing until now had been one of the suspects stepping out of the door to smoke. Amy sighed. What she wouldn't give for a calming cigarette right now.

The next morning, she was on window duty while Jake was still asleep and Charles took advantage of the situation to stretch extensively, strange looking vegetable paste on his sandwich.

Amy unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yawn. "I could die for coffee right now," she mumbled, eyes glued to the second-story window opposite her. The smoker leaned somewhere near it, talking on his phone.

"I could sneak out and quickly grab some," Charles offered. "There's a coffee shop right down the block." Amy considered it for a moment. Given the lack of action during the last three days, the chance of sudden events in the next ten minutes was palpably low. There was a back door through which Charles could get out without any of their suspects noticing him. And Jake was still here too, albeit fast asleep. But she had her ways of waking him up.

"Fine. You know our regular orders."

Charles was halfway out the door when he suddenly stopped still before grinning at Amy. "You heard that?"

Amy frowned. "What?" She tensed. Did she miss something outside?

"He's talking in his sleep again." Amy looked at him in confusion for a second until she heard it too. Jake was mumbling in his sleep, something about banditos eating a lot of burritos. Typical Jake.

Charles sighed melodramatically. "I wish I could understand his soulmate language." And with that he was out the door, leaving Amy frozen on her wooden chair by the window.

Charles must have bad hearing. She had clearly been able to make out the words. There was no way Charles couldn't understand that. Or was she the one imagining words? After a few minutes of confusion, she shook her head. She was tired, was all.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

Amy winced. Jake was looking up at her with those brown gems and his stupid tussled hair and his still sleepy, deep voice and something inside her snapped.

"Charles went out to get coffee." She watched him expectantly and waited for her heart to get crushed under the weight of the realization that he couldn't be her soulmate. A few seconds went by.

"And that's why you're trying to stare my face off?" Amy's heart plummeted to her feet. "Ames, I don't think you need coffee; you need sleep."

"Jake."

"Have you been sitting here like that the whole night?"

"Jake."

"Your butt must be– "

"Jake!"

"Hm?"

"You understand me."

He laughed. "I don't think I will ever understand what's going on in that head of yours— "

"No, Jake, I'm talking about my SML."

It was his turn to stare. "Wait, what?" Amy took a deep breath.

"You – you can understand my soulmate language." This was it. The moment of truth.

"You've been talking in your soulmate language?" His voice was suddenly very small and he looked like a five-year-old who just learned he wasn't accepted at his dream elementary school – or whatever five-year-olds got intimidated by.

"Still am." Amy wrung her hands. The walls were closing in on her. She couldn't meet his eyes. Every breath she took was shaky. She was at her most vulnerable point right now. But so was he.

Ohmygod, she thought. Jake was her soulmate. Jake was her soulmate? Jake was her soulmate… It whirled through her head, repeating itself over and over, while Jake himself considered her from deep within his eyes. She knew that look. He was locking himself behind his walls again.

Jake was quiet for what seemed like an eternity before he gulped and let out a nervous laugh. "What a morning, huh."

Amy carefully met his eyes. "Yeah, what a morning."

She saw something light up in his eyes. Relief? "And you understand mine. I guess that settles it."

Jake was her soulmate. And she was his.

Her chest suddenly felt so light, as if something heavy had been sitting on it her whole life until now. A grin spread naturally on her face, as if it was synced with Jake's. And they looked at each other as if they were the only people in the world.

Amy didn't exactly know how it happened but at some point, they started laughing; it began as a light chuckle and evolved into a heartfelt belly laugh. And then they were standing in the middle of the room, face to face, only inches apart, her hand on his shoulder and his hovered over her waist.

"I know this is probably not the best moment but… I really like you." Jake's eyes were a window to his very being. No walls, no jokes, only pure sincerity. Amy felt as if they were a staircase, descending into the depths of his soul, of her soul. As if they were connected, as if they were one.

"I like you too."

The look on his face was beyond all description. It made her heart flutter against her chest, trying to get out, trying to unite with its other half only inches away.

She didn't know who started leaning in first. She didn't know anything except for the wholeness filling her heart, and the feeling of his lips on hers. They were on a lonely island, surrounded by nothing but felicity and warmth. They melted together, their halves finally one, never to be separated again. They felt as one. They were one.

And neither of them looked out the window to find every window abandoned, the whole building suddenly deserted.

In fact, the last thing they saw was the other, eyes filled with love and wonder.

* * *

 _Charles feels the explosion before he hears or even sees it. It's shaking his very core, along with the tables of the coffee shop. With his ears filled with white noise, deaf to the shouting and screaming around him, his body automatically rushes out onto the street. His movements are stopped dead at the sight in front of him. A cloud of fire reaching hungrily towards the sky made of thick black smoke embraces what has been a firm edifice just seconds prior. Concrete dust mixed with bits of broken glass whirls around the street. It's chaos._

 _Charles can't breathe. All the oxygen has been sucked out of his lungs. His mind and body goes numb._

 _They'd never stood a chance._

* * *

 **I'm cruel.**

 **Bonus points for those of you who found all my Andy Samberg/The Lonely Island references! :D**


End file.
